


Nothing Quite So Sweet

by FormlessSnow



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, Queen (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Baking, Beautiful, Cake, Comfort, Cookie Dough, Cookies, Dessert & Sweets, Domestic Fluff, Dysphoria, Emotional, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotions, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Gender Dysphoria, Implied Mpreg, Kissing, M/M, Mpreg, My First Work in This Fandom, Romantic Fluff, Stargazing, Sweet, Trans, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-19 12:20:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19973971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FormlessSnow/pseuds/FormlessSnow
Summary: Confession time: I didn't watch the movie so inaccuracies are my fault. My dad raised me on Elvis; my mom raised me on Reba; my brothers on Fergie and my sisters on MCR (guess which stuck). I was *aware* of Queen but never delved in until recently and by the time I wanted to see Bohemian Rhapsody it was out of theaters and I don't own a DVD player. I'm relying on internet and all these Brian May articles in my suggested. Also my friend (but he has no clue about this because not his type of fanfic) and my girlfriend (who won't know about it until I yeet the link at her).





	Nothing Quite So Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Quick note about British English:  
> Biscuit- a smaller, harder cookie  
> Cookie- a larger, softer cookie  
> So cookie dough is the proper term.

Brian couldn't _sleep._ His hips hurt. His back hurt. His entire body hurt. Not to mention that he was incredibly tall for a person with this condition.

Roger was understanding when he didn't want to go out anymore. He didn't quite understand, per se, but he acted it out and he genuinely cared. In his own way. He did seem to understand that when Brian felt like crying he also felt horrible.

For most of their career together, so far at least, Brian was permitted to be more masculine than Freddie. Though the singer called him 'darling' a few too many times, he called _everybody_ 'darling' a tad often, so it felt more right than any time his own mother called him such. Roger, with his long hair and soft voice, was more likely to be confused for a girl than Bri, and Roger took it gracefully. Somewhat, at least. Deaky... Well, he was Deaky. Not particularly feminine, not particularly masculine, not even really androgynous- just Deaky, and it worked for him.

Brian's height helped. Roger was the average height for a man, and he seemed short in comparison. Originally when he'd come out, Roger hadn't believed him on grounds of height alone.

_You're too tall, much too tall to have been a woman, Bri. No. You're a man. You've always been one. Right?_

Brian had found that somewhat sweet, he supposed. It had taken Roger seeing his binder a few weeks after to realize that he was telling the truth, and Roger... He didn't say anything about it. He hadn't cared.

He looked out the window, at the stars in the sky, and he snuck down to the kitchen and opened the door, sitting down on the grass outside. His hips still ached, and his spine, but it felt more welcome now. Sitting in the dew-wet lawn, staring at the sky, he pretended that he was suffering not from the crushing dysphoria or from the child developing in his womb, but from just how big the universe truly was. How much of it he'd never get to see. And that... Hurt. That hurt more than the dysphoria did, perhaps because he hadn't looked at his naked body in months, perhaps because he was already working himself up over the very unplanned pregnancy and his brain told him that the straw that broke the camel's back (a thought which worsened it) was the heaviest.

The tears mixed with the grass as he tore his eyes from the heavens and leaned forward, and he shook with his sobs. He hated this, every moment of it, the constant reminder of his body, the time he lived being still too primitive to take him somewhere that felt safer than his skin, the reminder of... Well, that didn't matter.

That didn't matter.

Because now, there were footsteps, and a hand on his back, and a soft voice, and the voice was encouraging and sweet and then there was a hand on his arm too, gently pulling him to his knees because his feet were too sore, too trembling.

"It's okay, Bri. Let it out," the voice told him quietly, and Brian buried his face in Roger's chest unapologetically. "Better out than in. Breathe. There, there."

Roger's hands were warm and welcome; one wrapped around him tightly and moved across his back, relieving the tension in his spine and guiding his gasps of breath and tears out of the cage his heart and the pit of his stomach and his overexhausted lungs, up the path of his spine; the other in his hair abd on his neck, letting him rely on that for support as he sobbed into his boyfriend's shirt. Undoubtedly it would ruin the shirt but neither of them really cared. Neither could.

After Brian had calmed, Roger pressed his own face into Brian's hair and murmured to him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No..." Brian whispered hoarsely.

"Okay. Come on. Let's go inside."

"Throat hurts..."

"I'll make you tea."

Inside, Roger gave him some tea, then announced that he was hungry. Brian looked at him quizzically, but Roger was already rooting around in the cupboards. After a few minutes, he had assembled what was required to bake a cake.

"Um... Rog? What are you doing?"

"We're going to bake a cake. Help me measure the flour."

Brian laughed, an honest laugh, and washed his hands. Roger did too. They got out a mixing bowl- Roger pretended he couldn't reach, and though part of him knew, Brian felt more secure in his body than before. When Brian dropped an egg, Roger knelt to clean it, and they returned to attempting to bake.

When the cake was in the oven, Roger pulled Brian close to him, gently rubbing his side and looking up at him. Brian felt a bit better by that point in time, distracted by Roger mumbling 'vroom vroom' under his breath when Brian took a stab at mixing the batter. Though a little bit childish, it was still funny, and Bri had laughed along.

"Thank you," Brian told him honestly. "I felt..."

"I get it," Roger told him, waving it off before he cried. "I'm the best boyfriend ever for not using the damn car pan. Even though that circle's boring. What can you do with a circle?"

"Loads of things. A full moon, crescent moon, half moon- the sun, glympse of the universe. A planet." Brian smiled. "You could make a car on the cake too."

Roger smiled, reaching for Brian's hand and bringing his knuckles to his own lips, pressing a soft kiss there that sent a flurry of butterflies to his stomach. Brian accepted that, and then frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"I want... I want cookie dough. Not biscuits or cookies- cookie dough."

Roger nodded and got up. "Okay."

"What are you doing?"

"Making you some cookie dough." Roger set up and started to measure out more ingredients, and Brian laughed before pulling himself up and helping him.

After they'd made the kitchen into even more of a mess, Roger scooped up a small bowl of cookie dough and put it on a paper plate for Brian, who tasted it and sniffled, pulling him into a hug.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Does it taste okay?"

"It tastes like... Like love." Brian held him tight. "It tastes perfect."

* * *

John and Freddie woke up to a cake that looked vaguely like the night sky, a small container of cookie dough with tape on it that read 'DO NOT EAT,' and a tray of cookies. Brian had half-assedly cleaned up, but he was tired, so Roger had sent him back to bed. Roger was yawning, and he looked up at the two.

"Baby wanted cookie dough," he defended weakly, stumbling up to see Brian.


End file.
